


Johnlock Body Swap

by Talizora



Series: My Tumblr Ficlets and Drabbles [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Body Swap, Crack, M/M, john is hung, there is no real science to be found here, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9666143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talizora/pseuds/Talizora
Summary: While attendinginevitably-johnlockedBoy Meets Girl watchalong it was requested that someone write a Johnlock version. I put my hand up and asked for a prompt to help me along.Here was the request:When Sherlock switches John’s body, he can’t stop touching himself because GIANT JUNK





	

John was wet, actually that was an understatement. Drenched to the bone was a more accurate description. It had been pouring with rain for the last three hours and unfortunately John had been unable to take shelter because of a certain curly-haired detective. _Mad gorgeous bastard._ John thought fondly as he watched the way Sherlock’s signature coat failed to make its usual billowy swirl. It must weigh a ton with how much water it’d absorbed.

“I think the rains has done away with most of the evidence Sherlock!” Lestrade called over the pounding rain. There was a flash of light then a huge bang of sound as a streak of lightning shot across the sky. John jumped at the sudden sound, a momentary flash of dry desert and IEDs flickered in his mind. He shook his head, great now there was rain water in his eyes and looked back at Sherlock.

The loveable idiot was now climbing a streetlamp pole. “Sherlock!” John called; “Get down you bloody fool! You’ll get struck by lightning!” He reached out to pull on Sherlock’s ankle trying to drag him back down the pole.

“The odds of being struck in your lifetime is about 1 in 12,000 John. We’re more likely to slip in the rain and die from cracking out heads on the cement.” Sherlock shook his leg trying to get John to release his foot. “John! Let go!”

“Are you actually mad?” John snapped and pulled harder on Sherlock’s leg, his other hand reaching up to grasp the edge of his coat and pulling down on that too.

“John!” Sherlock growled and looked down at his blogger with a scowl. It was at that moment, with John looking up into his flatmates eyes both of them squinting due to rain that the next flash of light came.

Everything went white, then suddenly black.

* * *

_Laying down. Soft. Bed. Not home bed. Sniff. Hospital. Accident? …John?_ Sherlock tried to open his eyes to continue the analysis but everything was fuzzy and unfocused. _Double vision. Oversensitivity to light. Concussion. Fell?_

Sherlock lifted his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. _Callouses. Not his. Wrong placement._ Sherlock’s brain stops its usual rant of observations. He stares down at his hands. _Not his. Not his. Not his._

These are John Watson’s hands.

Sherlock reaches back up to his face, his fingers (John Watson’s fingers) are shaking. _Nose. Eyes. Eyebrows. Forehead wrinkles. Hairline. Short cropped hair._ This is not his face. He can feel himself touching his face, but it is not his face.

This is John Watson’s face.

Sherlock slams the door of his mind palace closed behind him and folds himself into his armchair in 221B. He quickly touches his face. _It’s his. High cheekbones, curly hair, big lips. It’s his. It’s his. It’s him._

There is a soft touch to his shoulder and Sherlock looks up into dark blue eyes. It’s John. The John he constructed as a companion in his mind. He’s wearing his burgundy jacket open, checkered shirt underneath.

“You alright, love?” John asks softly, he grips Sherlock’s shoulder a little harder. Sherlock turns and throws his arms around John and John holds him.

“I don’t know John, I don’t like it. I think I’m hurt.” Sherlock gasps into John’s shoulder.

“You’re in hospital, love. I think there was an accident.” John rubs firm circles on Sherlock’s back and starts to gently rock them. “Tell me what you remember? The last thing that happened before you woke up?”

“We… We were investigating, with Lestrade. A murder. Barely a three but then the rain started and it was wrecking the evidence. I needed to check the tire tracks from higher ground. I climbed a pole. John you didn’t want me to climb it. You tried to pull me down. Oh god. John… I think we were struck by lightning!”

“Mr Watson!”

Sherlock gasped and looked up, there was a doctor standing over him. “What?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you Mr Watson, do you often mumble to yourself when lost in thought?” The Doctor asked, smiling down kindly.

“Doctor.” Sherlock blurted. “Doctor Watson, yes I uhm… I find it helps me think. I was trying to remember what happened.”

_Middle-aged. Unhappily married. Three kids, all teenagers. Recently cheated on his wife._

“Oh, my apologies Doctor Watson! You and your flatmate Sherlock Holmes were struck by lightning two days ago. I’m afraid Mr Holmes hasn’t woken up yet he was hit more directly and has suffered third-degree burns to his right arm and chest. We are keeping him in an induced coma until his body has had a chance to heal first.” The Doctor glanced down at the file in his hands. “You and Mr Holmes are listed as each others next of kin. Is that correct?”

Sherlock nodded. “Is he okay? Will he be okay?”

“We are expecting some scarring, of course. But he should make a full recovery in a few months.” The Doctor hesitated for a moment before passing over the file to Sherlock. “Here, you can read for yourself, Doctor. I’ll let the attending nurse know you’re awake so we can perform a few tests. We’d like you to stay overnight for observation but if all goes well you should be able to go home tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Sherlock said absently and looked down at the medical file in his hands. It was **his** file.

> William Sherlock Scott Holmes  
>  **DOB:** 06/01/77  
>  **Blood Type:** O-positive   
>  **Sex:** Male  
>  **Admission:** Severe 3rd degree burns, caused by lightning strike-

Sherlock slammed the folder shut. He shoved the blankets off and looked down at his body. Except, it wasn’t his body at all. It was John’s. John’s knees peeking out from under the hospital gown, John’s calves, John’s ankles, John’s toes. He had hairy toes.

Sherlock giggled before he could stop himself. John Watson had hairy toes. Amazing. He needed a mirror. Sherlock slid out of bed and stumbled his way across the room to the toilet. _John is really short,_ Sherlock thought hysterically as he tripped through the door and slammed into the skin.

The face looking back at him was John’s face.

“How is this possible?” Sherlock whispered to himself. John’s face mouthed the same words back at him in the mirror.

* * *

The nurse had finished her examination and left. He’d passed with flying colours but he was still somehow stuck inside John’s body. Further investigation was needed, but first Sherlock needed to relieve himself. It was fine, he was a man, John was a man. He knew how to pee, but… He also wasn’t quite ready to see and touch John in such an intimate way.

Was it consensual for Sherlock to touch John in this way? Sherlock didn’t know but it was too late to ask John. He was unconscious possibly stuck inside Sherlock’s body and if Sherlock waited anymore he would pee all over himself.

With a deep breath Sherlock steeled himself and pulled up the hospital gown. “John Watson you sneaky bastard.” He cursed under his breath. Sherlock had known from the moment he watched John walk that he’d been well endowed, but he’d severely underestimated.

“No wonder you don’t have any issues pulling John, even with those ghastly jumpers. I bet you just whip this monster out and the women just swoon.” Sherlock reached down and took John’s penis into his hand. The term ‘shower not grower’ had never been more true. “I know I would.” Sherlock muttered and finally let himself pee.

* * *

Hospital food was disgusting. Sherlock had picked at the dinner he’d been brought and decided it wasn’t worth the effort of digesting it and left it. That had been two hours ago and now Sherlock was left to stare up at the white hospital ceiling and panic. How was he going to get back into his own body? Was he going to be stuck like this for the rest of his life? Was John going to be stuck in his body? Can they fix this? Would John even want to stay with him? _Would he leave?  
_

Sherlock shut his eyes (John’s eyes) tightly and breathed. _In out. In out. Deep breaths. John won’t leave, he’s too loyal for that. Too good. Too kind. Too beautiful. Deep breaths. In out. In out._ Sherlock lifted his hands up to his chest and rubbed softly at the heavy, cold feeling there. His hand circled wider than John’s chest was, his movements automatic for a larger frame.

A bolt of tingly pleasure shot down Sherlock’s spine as his hand brushed one of John’s nipples. “Oh!” Sherlock gasped and glanced down at his chest. John’s nipples were extremely sensitive. Experimentally Sherlock brushed a calloused fingertip over it again, it felt amazing even through the hospital gown.

Now that he’d started touching Sherlock found that he couldn’t make himself stop. He rubbed again and felt the nipple harden under his finger. _Oh that felt, that felt._ Sherlock moaned. What if he pinched? Would that feel better or worse?

Sherlock pinched himself slightly and groaned. John’s penis twitched under the gown. _Again_. Sherlock thought. _Again, again, again._ Could he make John come like this? From touching his nipples only? It certainly felt like it. “Oh god, John!” Sherlock moaned and suddenly had a genius idea. He had two hands, and John’s body had two nipples.

“Fuck!”

This was all going in the John wing. All of it. He needed to know every bit of data that he could wring from John’s body. Filed and saved in the mind palace forever. Sherlock’s hand slid down from John’s left nipple and slipped under the gown.

John’s cock was hard and hot. So hot. Sherlock let his fingertips just softly brush over the length of it. It twitched again, it actually lifted up off John’s lower belly and brushed against his hand. “John!” Sherlock wriggled down the bed and spread his legs wide. He grasped John’s cock firmly, _fuck_ John’s small hand could only just make it around. John was huge. Actually huge. It was glorious.

Sherlock was gasping and panting as he stroked his (John’s) cock. “Ah!” He was dripping pre-cum onto his belly. Actually dribbling. It was wet and slippery and hot, so hot. _Oh god!_ Sherlock’s whole body clenched, his muscles pulling tight his breath whooshing out of his lungs and he comes. He comes and comes and comes. It feels like it goes on for hours. “Oh! Oh! John!”

Sherlock goes boneless and sleeps.

* * *

If there was one thing Sherlock didn’t like about himself it as that he had an addictive personality. Once he found something that made him feel good he would do it again and again until it became unhealthy. Sherlock’s new obsession with touching John’s penis was no exception.

John had an uncommonly short refractory period for a man his age. Which, really wasn’t Sherlock’s fault. It was John’s. Yes, Sherlock decided. It was John’s fault that he was so sexy and hung like a stud and could reach orgasm at least three times in four hours. The fifth time Sherlock tried it had started to hurt so he stopped.

Now that Sherlock had been discharged and decided it was time to visit John. One of Mycroft’s goons has dropped off a bag of clothes from the flat. It had given Sherlock a strange warm feeling in his stomach to see his and John’s clothes folded up together inside the same bag.

Sherlock picked up his things and marched his way down the hall to find John’s room. Sherlock looked at the names on the doors as he went and certainly didn’t trip over when he almost walked past the door with ‘William Holmes’ written on it.

He glared at the nameplate, why did it say ‘William’? It should say ‘Sherlock’ surely that had been in his file? With a growl, Sherlock ripped the name off the door, opened it and went inside. There was a pen on John’s bedside table. He snatched it up, flipped the card over and wrote in block letters ‘SHERLOCK HOLMES’ on it before shoving it back on the door and slamming it closed.

He hated being called William.

Sherlock threw the bag into the corner of the room and then looked at the bed. He looked a mess. Bandages covered his right arm and disappeared under the hospital gown they’d put on his body. The body, Sherlock hoped contained John’s consciousness. They must have swapped. They must have.

Sherlock pulled open the draws on the trolley that sat next to the bed, he was looking for something in particular. If the hospital staff were any use they would have left a syringe here somewhere.

* * *

The world came crashing back to John violently. He gasped and flinched as pain spiked across his body. Everything hurt, he couldn’t breath. Something was in his mouth. Panic.

“John! John! Listen to me. It’s Sherlock. You’re alright. You’re in hospital. I’m here.”

He groaned and the sound rumbled deep inside his chest.

“John you have an intubator inside your throat. I’m sorry I can’t remove it, I just wanted to check you were okay before I put you back under.”

Was that Sherlock’s voice? It sounded like him but his hearing must be off, it was too high to be Sherlock. Sherlock’s voice was like brass instruments and gravel.

“Hmm!” John groaned and tried to open his eyes but they stung.

“I’m here John, it’s okay you can rest.” Sherlock touched his cheek and brushed a tear from his eye. He tried again to open them but they just watered too much. _Christ he was in pain._ It felt like he’d been shot in his other shoulder. “I’m sorry I woke you but I had to be sure. When you’re better we have some experiments to run.”

“Urrrrrhhh.” John gurgled. That must have been Sherlock, no one else would force him out of a medicated sleep just to tell him he needed help with his experiments. The world was fading again, he was tired his body felt heavy and the pain was going away.

“There you go John. Just relax you’ll be asleep again in-”

* * *

Sherlock had now been inside John’s body for a week. He had tried to maintain the body in as close to the same condition that he had found it in when he had awoken inside it. It had a few bruises from where Sherlock had tripped and fallen and when he had stubbed John’s hairy toes on the kitchen table. Other than that it was in perfect condition.

John’s body had also probably not orgasmed this much since he was a teenager. Sherlock had run every kind of self-pleasure experiment he could think of. He knew every hot spot, every twist of the wrist that would make John Watson’s body hurl itself to completion. Sherlock was 99% sure that once they swapped back into their bodies and John finally got over his insecurities about being in a same sex relationship that Sherlock would be able to give John the best orgasm of his life.

Sherlock was also sure that he was done waiting for John to make the first move. He was addicted to John, mind, body and heart. He needed him to function, to sleep, to eat. It probably wasn’t healthy to need another human being as much as Sherlock Holmes needed John Watson but it didn’t matter.

Today John was being woken up, properly. Sherlock wanted to be there for him. To explain that they’d swapped and that between sessions of fondling John’s gigantic penis Sherlock had researched and figured out a way to swap them back. This time, without the third-degree burns and induced coma.

It had taken a fair amount of convincing on Sherlock’s part to ensure that he was alone in the room when John woke up. He needed to be because otherwise he would be terrified, just like Sherlock had been to wake up in another body.

The nurse had already left, now it was just a waiting game. John shouldn’t take too long, he hoped.

“Sher…” John groaned and shifted on the bed. “e‘speriments?”

Sherlock smiled. “I’m here John, we’ll do the experiment in a moment.”

John shifted about in the bed some more before his eyes opened and he looked at Sherlock. He was instantly confused, “Huh?”

“John, it’s okay. I know this is weird. We were struck by lightning and somehow in the discharge of electricity our conscious minds swapped bodies. Now, not to worry. While you’ve been unconscious I’ve been doing research and I have devised an experiment in which we will use these two defibrillators to re-create the same charge and swap our minds back.” Sherlock pulled over the hospital cart that he had borrowed from intensive care inside which he had stowed two defibrillators.

“Wh-what?” John, using Sherlock’s face frowned harder.

Sherlock sighed, “John you know how much I hate to repeat myself.”

“It really is you.” John stared at Sherlock for a beat then down at his hands. “Jesus Chris!t I’m inside your body Sherlock!”

“Indeed you are John, and not in the way people normally get inside each other.” Sherlock winked at John. He’d start as he means to go on. Maximum flirting, maximum innuendo. John would be blind and deaf to miss Sherlock’s advances now.

“What?” John looked more confused, “Did you just?”

“John, I don’t know how long we have before the hospital staff realise I’ve… eh… commandeered their defibrillators. So lay back please and lift up your gown.” Sherlock picked up two electrode pads and turned back to John.

“Hang on, hang on. You said you’d been inside my body for a week?”

“Yes.”

John’s eyes ran up and down Sherlock’s body quickly. “Get a good feel then?”

Sherlock’s mouth dropped open in shock, “How?”

“Sherlock, that’s my body. I know when it’s had a shag, or in this case a wank I ‘spose. So did you?” John grinned.

“How are you this alert so soon after a coma?” Sherlock snapped.

“Soldier remember? I’m good a waking up and being alert fast. Especially after living with your for the last two years.”

Sherlock hummed noncommittally.

“Answer the question Sherlock.” John demanded.

“Alright fine. Yes. I did. I masturbated with your body. It was good. I did some experiments and once we swap back I want to do it again. Happy?” Sherlock pouted.

“Yes actually. Very happy. So uh, Sherlock… Do you wanna be my boyfriend?” John grinned.

Sherlock’s legs almost, _almost_ buckled under him. “Oh God, yes!”

John laughed and then flinched, “Bugger, yeah okay Sherlock lets swap back now. You climbed that pole you can put up with the pain of lightning burns. I am a little pissed that I don’t get to wank you off though. You’re going to have to make it up to me.”

Sherlock smirked, “John. I know how to make you cum so hard you express 10 milliliters of ejaculate after which you will experience between twelve to eighteen dry contractions.”

John’s was actually staring at Sherlock in open astonishment, his mouth hanging open and pupils dilating visibly by the second.

“And,” Sherlock paused and lifted the hospital gown up off John’s borrowed body and began to attach the electrode pads to his chest. “I can do it in five minutes.”

“Fuck me.” John growled and it came out so low and deep that it actually started Sherlock. He didn’t know his voice could sound so, dragon-like. He’d have to try that out on John, later.

“Later, right now we need to swap back.”

“Yes, right. Go on then genius.”

“Clear… Three, two, one…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr [here](http://tali-zora.tumblr.com/post/153719129429/johnlock-body-swap)


End file.
